The battle had been a bloody one and it still wasn’t over. Crouched on the floor behind the kitchen counter, Irelyn stayed on alert as she eased open a drawer. Feeling around in the dark, she grabbed hold of a kitchen towel. Shards of broken glass from a hallway mirror were gouged into her left arm and thigh. Most were superficial cuts on her arm, but her left thigh hadn’t been so lucky. She could feel blood oozing down her leg from a large piece embedded in her skin.

She wrapped the towel around her thigh and tied it off. She was tempted to remove the glass but feared causing more damage. She’d wait until the fight was over. The hail of gunfire had finally stopped for a moment, and her ears were no longer ringing. Right now, there was only silence. She had taken three men out, but she was sure there were more. How many were left?

Where was Grey? In a hand-to-hand battle with one of Dark’s men, she had lost her earbud and now had no way to reach him. Calling out to him would reveal their positions to the remaining men.

The last few shots had been in the den, close to the back of the house. She told herself they had come from Grey’s weapon and that he was still alive, that he was okay. He had to be. Grey Justice was invincible. She had never known a cooler head or a better shot.

A noise hit her ears. Footsteps. Heavy-footed ones, their owner trying to be quiet and not succeeding, so she knew they didn’t belong to Grey, who could be as silent as a panther. Scooting on her butt to the edge of the counter, she peered around the corner. Light from a flashlight appeared at the door. Irelyn didn’t wait to see a face. She fired three rounds, heard a pained grunt and then a loud crash as a big body collapsed. She winced, knowing the statue of the goddess Diana that she’d purchased in Greece a few years back hadn’t survived.

Again, there was only silence. She wouldn’t wait much longer. She tried to reassure herself that Grey was okay, but an image of him bloodied and injured kept flashing through her mind. She needed to find him.

Long ago, she’d learned to block out physical pain, and it angered her that she had to grit her teeth to do so now. This was nothing compared to what she had endured in the past. Holding on to that anger, she got to her feet and crept toward the door leading to the dining room. Holding her breath, she stopped and listened intently. Other than the sound of the wind blowing through the broken windows, she heard nothing. She waited a few more seconds and then peeked out.

Death and destruction were all around. One man, dressed in black, lay facedown on the dining room table. Blondish hair stuck out of the end of his skullcap, reassuring her the man wasn’t Grey. Another body lay crossway on the floor between the dining room and a small parlor. He was also dressed in black, but looked to be a mammoth size with a gut to match. Definitely not Grey.

Staying low, she ran to the next doorway, stopped, and listened. Still no human sounds. She looked around the door and jumped back. A man was rounding the corner. The barrel of his gun appeared first. Not one she recognized. She fired a shot. Missed. Rapid fire commenced.

Backing away, she ran back into the kitchen. Standing on the other side of the fridge, she weighed her options. She had four rounds left and then would resort to her secondary weapon, which had fifteen. Once they were gone, it was hand-to-hand with her knife until she could get back to the sanctuary and reload her weapons.

“Irelyn!”

Grey. A lump clogged her throat, and her eyes blurred. He was alive! And from the sound of his voice, he was also royally pissed.

“Yes?”

“You okay?”

“Yes. You?”

Instead of telling her he was okay, he shouted, “I have a question for you.”

“What’s that?”

“Marry me?”

Hidden in an alcove beside a bookshelf in the living room, Grey held his breath as he waited for the answer to the most important question he’d ever asked in his life. Proposing in the midst of a gun battle was not the most romantic way to go about such things, but for them, for who they were, this worked perfectly. He and Irelyn were the least traditional people he knew.

He should have asked her long ago and had no good excuse for not making that last permanent commitment. They might have started in darkness, might have spent years fighting their way free of the pain, but she had brought light to his life, warmth to his soul. He could not imagine his life without her. If she said yes, he would spend the rest of his life making sure she knew that.

“Are you crazy?”

Her response was exactly what he’d wanted, with just the right amount of surprise, outrage, and laughter.

“Only about you.”

Another bit of laughter for his cheesy answer, and then she shouted, “Are you all right? You didn’t get hit in the head or something?”

He laughed. Only this woman could make him laugh in the midst of blood and death.

“No. I’m finally thinking straight. So what do you say?”

He held his breath, knowing she was probably both confused and scared. In all their time together, they had never talked marriage. Which was damn crazy. He had never wanted anyone but Irelyn.

“Irelyn?”

“You’re sure?”

“Never been more sure of anything.”

“Then, yes!”

Grinning like an idiot, Grey leaned against the wall and assessed his chances of getting out of here alive so he could marry his woman. He had disposed of seven intruders. By his count, there were at least two more in the house. One was upstairs, stomping around in a guest bedroom. As he’d hoped, the other one was now headed Grey’s way. It would be the man’s last mistake.

Footsteps above him indicated the other guy had heard him, too. One more check of his gun showed him what he already knew. Three rounds left. He’d gotten into a one-on-one with one of the assholes and had dropped one of his weapons. Once he was out of ammo, the Ka-Bar knife would have to do the rest.

He glanced down at the blood soaked cloth he’d wrapped around his hand. Another casualty from the hand-to-hand battle. The guy had managed to slice open his palm. The pain was secondary to the aggravation of not being able to shoot with his dominant hand. He would make do but he was furious all the same. No way in hell were these bastards going to win.

He stood on the other side of the entertainment center. The instant the man entered, he'd be able to see him immediately. Grey leaned forward just a bit. Ah yes, he was coming and quite rapidly. One bullet should do the job. A grizzled-looking face appeared at the doorway. Grey took the shot but the guy ducked at the last second. Grey fired again, winged him on the shoulder but the guy kept coming. Firing his last shot, a hole appeared in the center of his forehead. He was dead before he hit the floor.

One down, one to go. He heard no more footsteps and figured the guy was waiting for Grey to make a move. Since he didn't want the man to go after Irelyn, Grey decided to oblige him. He took one step toward the door, and a shot rang out. Grey dropped to the floor. That shot hadn't come from the open door. Grey turned in time to see a man climbing through the broken window. Seemingly unconcerned about the shards of glass scattered across the floor, he came toward Grey with a wide grin on his face. There was no reason to wonder why. Grey was lying on the floor like a sitting duck. With only a knife, he'd never make the kill before the man blasted his head off.

Determined to not go to his grave while lying down, Grey sprang to his feet. Just as the guy went for the kill shot, a long, slender knife whooshed by Grey’s head and embedded in the guy's throat. His gun dropped to the floor as he grabbed at his throat. The instant he pulled the knife free, blood gushed like a spigot had been turned on full force. The man collapsed inches from Grey’s feet.

Turning, Grey stared at the lovely and lethal woman at the doorway. It wasn't the first time she had saved his life, but that might've been as close to death as he'd been in some time. “Whoever said not to bring a knife to a gunfight doesn’t know Irelyn Raine.”

They stiffened as the creak of a floorboard told them they weren’t alone. The lone man upstairs was likely waiting to take them unawares.

“I’m out of ammo,” Grey said softly. “You have any left?”

“Yes.”

“Save it in case we don’t have a choice. I’d like to have a talk with him. You go left, and I’ll—” He broke off at the sound of an engine starting up and then a vehicle roaring away.

“Guess he changed his mind about staying.”

“Think we’re alone now?”

“Yeah. Except for about a dozen or so dead bodies.”

Surprising him, she flew into his arms. “I thought I'd lost you.”

“Not going to happen. At least for sixty or so years.” He pushed her away to examine her. “Where are you hurt?”

“Most of them are just scratches and cuts.”

He spotted the bloody towel at her thigh. “That looks a bit more serious.”

“Probably needs a couple of stitches.” She picked up his bloody hand. “This looks bad.”

“A couple of stitches will take care of it, too.” Before she could question him further, he pulled her back into his arms and held her tight. They hadn't come out unscathed, but considering what they'd been up against, he felt damn lucky.

She raised her head and looked around at the destruction. “Having a house with a lot of glass might not have been our best idea.”

“Agreed. How about we get this place repaired again and sell it to someone who doesn't have a thousand or so enemies?”

“I'll miss it, but you're right. We need to move on.”

“As long as we move on together.”

“About the marriage thing.” She chewed her lip, and uncertainty filled her eyes. “You were serious about that?”

“Never been more serious.”

“But you said… I thought…” She shook her head. “Never mind.”

“No. We don’t do that, Irelyn. We say what’s on our minds.”

She sighed. “All right. Do you remember an interview you gave to that reporter a few years ago?”

“Seriously, Irelyn? I’ve talked to hundreds of reporters. How can I—”

“It was a television interview for Dallas Talk. The reporter asked you about your private life.”

Having this conversation surrounded by broken glass, blood, and dead bodies felt surreal. If he hadn’t recognized how important it was, he might have suggested they wait till later. But he saw the insecurity in her eyes. She had doubts, and he needed to address them.

“I vaguely remember. She got intrusive with her questions.”

“Yes. She asked you why you’ve never married. Do you remember your answer?”

“No, I don’t.”

“You told her, ‘Why would I want to get married?’ You said you already had everything you could ever want.”

“Irelyn…I—”

“Look, I know we’ve never been traditional in anything. Our lives are complicated and not what most people would call normal, but when I heard you say that, I realized that’s the way you wanted it forever.”

“You knew I was committed to you, and only you.”

“I know. It just hit me that you didn’t see us going beyond that to something more.”

He barely remembered the interview, other than the aggravation at the too personal questions. But he could certainly see how a flippant remark might have been misconstrued, especially by the woman with whom he shared his life.

“That was a boneheaded answer to a reporter who should have known better than to ask. It was our agreement that she wouldn’t ask personal questions, and I gave her an insincere, off-the-cuff remark. It had nothing to do with how I feel about you.”

She gave him a self-conscious smile. “I guess I could have overreacted.”

“Why didn’t you say something before now?”

“I should have, but we were embroiled with what was going on with the Slaters.”

Grey nodded, his understanding complete now. “And then Hill Reed exploded back into our lives.”

“Yes. It kind of spiraled out of control after that.”

“I’m sorry, Irelyn. I never want you to doubt me or my commitment to you, to us. In fact…” Using his uninjured hand, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the token of their long, complicated relationship.

They both looked down at the fragile silver ring she’d returned to him in Dublin.

“Oh, Grey,” she breathed. “You went back for it?”

“You’re damn right I did.”

“I’m so glad. It broke my heart to leave it there.”

“No more broken hearts for either of us. We’ve been through a lot together, Irelyn, but there’s never been anyone but you. So, will you marry me?”

“Yes, oh, yes.” She pressed her cheek against his chest and spoke the words he’d always longed for to her say, “I love you, Grey. So very much.”

He closed his eyes. He had almost messed this up, but dammit, this time he would get it right.

“I love you, too. Never forget that.”

She smiled up at him. “Irelyn and Grey, together again.”

“Forever.”